


A King Unshackled

by altmeris



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Angst, Coldharbour, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Torture, feathers and worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altmeris/pseuds/altmeris
Summary: I don’t think I’ve written this much in a looong time. So here, have what I’ve been working on for the last few days: Torenn saving Mannimarco from Coldharbour. Pretty damn different than how it happens ingame, but this is what I fucking wanted to do. Some of Manni’s dialogue is right from ESO, but most of it isn’t.





	A King Unshackled

**Author's Note:**

> This work involves torture and implied (but not described) rape.

CRACK!

Mannimarco flinched, but made no sound as the hot whip lashed his naked body. He was quite beyond screaming now. He was even beyond wondering how this could ever happen to him. All that existed now was agony, agony as electricity crackled through his restraints, agony as the daedra’s fiery whips hit him, agony from every bruise and every burn, agony from his throat from the screaming, and agony from a place inside of him that he dared not name.

CRACK!

How long had it been now, since Molag Bal had dragged him into this place? Hours? Days? Years? There was no sense of time in Coldharbour. No sunrises, no sunsets. Just a cold, endless blue glow.

CRACK!

“Mannimarco, Mannimarco, where are your subjects now?” sneered one of the daedra.

Mannimarco did not reply.

CRACK!

“Did you think they would come and save you? You, who plotted against your master! You, who have no honor and no loyalty, deserve none!”

“No…” protested Mannimarco.

CRACK!

“The only thing you command is dust. Yes… that is what you are… a King of Dust! A king with no subjects… they all serve the Master now. They care nothing for you! They abandoned you here to rot for all eternity! Ha! Hahaha!”

The surrounding daedra laughed, a horrible, discordant sound.

CRACK!

“No…! No…” Mannimarco croaked, “No…”

“King of dust! King of dust! King of dust!” chanted the daedra.

CRACK!

_“Mannimarco!”_ This voice was different. Faint but clear. _“Mannimarco! Oh gods, it’s Mannimarco!”_

Footsteps. The daedra turned.

“Mortals!” one of them cried. All four of them sprang into action. Mannimarco tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t see what was happening.

There was the sound of flames, of swords, of shouting and screaming. Then all was silent for a moment, all but footsteps.

“Mannimarco! _Mannimarco!”_

Someone ran up beside him. A face swam above his own, and he blinked several times until everything came into focus.

The cloudy blue eyes above him filled with tears. “Oh, _Mannimarco!”_

It was that halfling woman, the Vestige. What was her name? Torri? Tormund? No, Torenn. Yes, Torenn, the one who had sent him to this infernal place!

Torenn knelt weakly beside the stone table where Mannimarco was shackled and began to cry. “Y-you’re here… you’re here… I th-thought… I thought…”

_“You!”_ he hissed, “Come to gloat at my torment? Or is your appearance here a part of it?”

“No, Mannimarco, I’m here, I’m real! Oh, thank the gods you’re still alive…”

“Alive?” Mannimarco scoffed, “I am neither alive nor dead. I am trapped in a gout of ash and bile and swirling vapors. My ears are filled with the screams of a thousand nails being drawn. And the pain… the pain is endless.”

“Well he’s all right enough to be dramatic,” muttered a snide voice.

It felt like ice shot down Mannimarco’s spine, followed by the hot tingle of humiliation. Ugh, to be seen naked and bleeding like this by Abnur Tharn! This had to be another of Molag Bal’s terrible illusions made to taunt him. Why else would such a cowardly, rude creature be here?

“Oh gods… Molag Bal really got him good.”

That voice had to belong to Lyris Titanborn. What was _she_ doing here? Gods, were all of the Companions here? Here to laugh at him for what a fool he had been?

“I am his plaything…” Mannimarco croaked, “An abject lesson to others who would thwart him.” He glared up at Torenn. “My plan was flawless. My machinations were executed to perfection. I would have been a god… if not for you.”

Torenn froze. She looked over his face, and down his body as if deep in thought.

This irritated Mannimarco. How _dare_ she look at him! “My only consolation is that you will know this pain, soon enough!”

“No, we won’t. I am going to beat Molag Bal. I will get revenge for all he has done! To all of us, including you!”

Mannimarco did a double take. Why did she want to get revenge on his behalf? Still, it was hopeless. She could never beat Molag Bal.

“Arrogant, presumptuous, egotistical twaddle!” he growled. “I expect I will be seeing you soon. My only joy for the rest of eternity will be hearing your tortured screams!”

A shudder passed through Torenn’s body. Was it Mannimarco’s imagination, or did her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink?

“No,” she said firmly. She reached out to touch his hair, but he pulled away. “I’m going to rescue you.”

Rescue? True, Mannimarco had entertained thoughts of someone coming to his aid. But those fantasies had long since withered away. Besides, why would _this girl_ want to rescue him?

“What? After all that has transpired?” he asked incredulously, “I _killed_ you, you simpleton!”

“Yes, you did,” Torenn agreed matter-of-factly. She was now walking around the stone table, inspecting it.

How could she respond so nonchalantly? “I saw your life gutter and fade like a candle flame in a tempest!”

Did her lips twitch at the corners? “Yes,” she replied softly, “You did. I’m still going to get you out of there.”

_How_ could she not hate him? “My undead servants drank your blood and I reanimated your corpse! Do not taunt me with such hilarity!”

“Look, do you want to be rescued or not?” demanded Lyris.

Truthfully, he did. Oh gods, did he want to be released. But his pride, although gravely wounded, was still intact. He would not beg for help from his enemies. Never ever.

“Leave him alone, Lyris,” Torenn said, gently but firmly. “He’s tired, embarrassed, and he’s hurt really bad.” She tried to tug at one of his shackles, but she was electrocuted; her entire body twitched for a moment before she fell to the ground.

“Okay,” she muttered dryly after a moment, “That didn’t work. Varen? Any ideas?”

“Leave him there,” Tharn butted in, “That backstabbing bastard got exactly what he deserved.”

“How many times have I told you that _I don’t fucking care?”_ Torenn snapped as she got to her feet, “I’m saving him whether you like it or not. Now are _any_ of you willing to help me? If not, stand back and let me do this.”

“I cannot abide helping you, Vestige,” said Varen. “Mannimarco is too dangerous. If you want to help him, I won’t stop you. But you are on your own.”

“Lord Varen is right,” said Sai Sahan, who had been silent up to this point. “If you release him, he will certainly try to do harm again.”

“Even so,” said Torenn, “I can’t sit here and watch someone suffer like this. No matter who they are. No matter what they have done.”

“You have a good heart, Vestige,” said Varen. “If there were more people like you, Nirn would be a much better place.”

“Thank you, Varen.” said Torenn. For some reason, her tone sounded sad and distant.

She fumbled around for the next few minutes in silence. Then, “Oh! Here!”

There was a loud click, and suddenly, the electric current stopped. The shackles binding Mannimarco’s wrists and ankles snapped open.

“You are… truly a fool, halfling,” Mannimarco muttered. Though he still felt terrible, at least the electricity had stopped. However, when he tried to sit up, agony gripped his entire body, agony from that place he dared not mention. He yelped in pain and slumped back onto the stone.

“Oh gods!” Torenn cried. She rushed over to his side. “Just stay still now.” She fumbled at the straps on her back, and it was then that Mannimarco realized she was carrying two staves. Her own healing staff, of course, but also…

“M-my staff…!” he croaked. “Give it to me!”

“I will once you’re on your feet,” Torenn said gently. She held her healing staff in her left hand. “First, please let me heal you. You can’t get anywhere fast if you’re hurt like this.”

“Do we really have time for this, Salvia?” demanded Tharn.

“If you want to go on without me, you’re welcome to,” said Torenn. “But I’m not leaving him.” She turned back to Mannimarco. “Please tell me where it hurts the most.”

“Give me my staff and begone!” Mannimarco hissed.

“Please, let me help you, __She said the last two words very softly, and in Altmeris.

Mannimarco stared at her. Why was she referring to him like this?

_< “I have much to tell you,”>_ she whispered, again in Altmeris, her voice barely audible. _< “I’m going to help you more than you know right now.”>_ She then reverted back to Cyrodillic. “Please tell me where to focus. I want to help you.”

Mannimarco glanced around. He couldn’t see the other Companions, but he didn’t want them to know… they couldn’t know where he hurt… truthfully he didn’t want Torenn to know either, but it seemed he had little choice.

Torenn got the message. “Could you back off a bit please?” she asked the other Companions, “I don’t think he will cooperate with you standing so close.”

“What? No!” Lyris cried, “What if he hurts you?”

“I’ll be damned if he can hurt anyone like this,” Torenn said shortly. “Look, the faster I get this done, the faster he’ll be out of our hair and the faster we can move on. He wants more privacy, and who can blame him? He’s fucking _naked_ for Mara’s sake!”

“Fine, fine, if only because I don’t want to see any more of his body than I already have,” muttered Tharn, “Which is way too much.”

“For once we’re in agreement,” said Lyris. “But Torenn, if he tries to hurt you, we WILL kill him.”

“Thank you for your concern,” said Torenn.

Mannimarco heard footsteps, presumably the Companions drawing away.

“Okay,” Torenn whispered, _“Now_ can I heal you? Where does it hurt most?”

Mannimarco cringed. He couldn’t tell her. He just couldn’t.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Torenn said, “I don’t think it’s pathetic or anything. I just want to help you. Please help me help you.”

Mannimarco shook his head. No, she couldn’t know! No one could know! Not even himself… if he denied it, perhaps it didn’t happen.

“Mannimarco. Please. If you let me heal you, you can get out of here faster. It’s not worth suffering for the sake of pride.”

_Damn her._ He couldn’t argue with her logic. And… and somehow, her voice and her presence was soothing. Even though he despised her… how odd.

“If you tell anyone,” he muttered, “I will kill you.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” she said.

Mannimarco paused for a long moment. Then, finally, he gestured toward his rear end, too humiliated to even look at Torenn, who gasped in horror.

“He… he didn’t…” she whispered, “Oh gods…”

“Are you going to heal me or not?” Mannimarco demanded.

“Yes, of course.” Torenn tapped her staff on the table with her left hand. Her right hand hovered over his abdomen.

The relief was immediate. The sharp, stinging, tearing pain faded until it was nothing more than a dull ache. Torenn’s hand traveled slowly southward, spreading the relief with it, until it hovered over his loins.

_If she even dares touch me, I will snap her hand off,_ he thought. But she didn’t.

And as she worked, she spoke softly to him in Altmeris, her mouth hardly moving.

_< “I know you want nothing to do with me,”>_ she said, _< “But your dreams of godhood do not have to be shattered.”>_

_< “What do you mean?”>_

_< “Well… I have the Amulet of Kings.”>_

Mannimarco froze. Could she possibly mean what he thought she meant?

_< “I was devastated when you were captured. And I didn’t quite know why until recently. But… Mannimarco… I think I love you.”>_

So. That was why she was fretting so much over him. True, he had seen the sparkle of desire in her eyes when she looked at him, even on the day he murdered her. But he hadn’t thought much of it.

_< “You? In love with me? You must be joking. After all I did to you… and you worship Meridia!”>_

_< “I did. But I’ve decided that you are much more important to me. I have decided to worship a new god. And that new god will be you.”>_

She started tracing the lash marks on his body with one finger. He flinched, but, for some reason, it was only from the pain, and not discomfort. Each mark faded as she touched it, the pain lessening.

“There we go,” she said in Cyrodillic, a little louder than usual, “Feeling better?”

“Give me my staff,” Mannimarco replied sharply as he sat up, reaching for it.

“Okay, okay, here.” Torenn removed the staff from her back and handed it to him. Then, she removed her pack and sifted around in it. Mannimarco recognized the enchantment on it; it was a pack that would fit much more than it looked capable of.

After a few moments, she produced a pauldron. And then another pauldron. And then a sabaton. A gauntlet. Mannimarco recognized this armor!

“My… my armor?” he asked. How was this possible? What on _Nirn_ was she doing with it? Dear gods, had she robbed his body blind?

“I took it off so I could… you know, bury you properly. Or at least, as properly as I could… And… and then I kept it. The armor.”

“And my staff.”

“I… I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be used for evil.” she said. Then, she added softly in Altmeris, _< “Actually, I just… I thought I would never see you again and I… I just… I just… wanted them. To remember you.”>_

That was… _slightly_ creepy. Mannimarco was taken aback.

“But then,” she continued in Cyrodillic, “I realized there was a chance of saving you, so I kept them with me to return to you when I did.”

“Vestige.” Tharn had appeared again. “You’re giving him back his things?”

“Yes,” Torenn said, “They’re his. He gets them back.”

“Torenn…” It was Lyris approaching now. “You’re too nice, you know.”

“Probably,” said Torenn. “But I would have done the same for any of you.”

Lyris glared at Mannimarco. “I’d kill you right here, right now if not for Torenn. Be grateful she’s so kind.”

Torenn sighed. “Let’s get out of here. He’s probably not gonna fight us now because he’s naked, but he’s definitely going to put his armor on… Goodbye, Mannimarco. Good luck.” And then, she added in Altmeris, _< “Think about what I’ve said. Catch up later if you want, and I will give you what you desire.”>_

She then gave him one last, longing look, and then turned to join the rest of the Companions.

He heard them talking as they moved on.

“What did you say to him? Was that Altmeris?” asked Lyris.

“Yes,” said Torenn. “I wished him well and said may the gods watch over you. I don’t know, I thought it would be comforting to hear it in his own language.”

“You’re awfully kind to him, even for someone as sentimental and goody-two-shoes as you,” Tharn said suspiciously.

“Vestige…” said Varen, “You would be wise to keep your personal feelings for him under control. Lest I remind you that he is our enemy.”

“Personal feelings?” Torenn sounded offended. “I worship Meridia, remember? And Mannimarco’s a _necromancer.”_ she said that last word with utter disgust.

Their voices faded away as they moved out of earshot. How she had _lied_ to them, so easily! Mannimarco had lived and studied long enough to be able to recognize the best of lies, and the way Torenn had responded so effortlessly to Titanborn’s questioning, with believable emotion thrown in… had he been centuries younger and less knowledgeable, he himself would have believed her. Of course, the Companions had reason to be suspicious, but if they truly believed she would betray them, they would have abandoned her, or perhaps even attacked her. They were just as gullible as he remembered.

He put his staff down and began to put his armor on, assisted by a few spells. It would be uncomfortable without underclothing, but he would manage. He certainly wasn’t going to spend any more time naked than necessary.

As he put it on, he noticed that each piece had been lovingly cleaned and polished. It practically _glimmered._ That halfling… she really was something else. Did she really love him? He himself didn’t understand or care for love in the slightest, but the way she looked at him… the way she had cried when she had found him… the soft way in which she spoke to him… Yes, whether she truly loved him or not, she certainly believed that she did. That much, Mannimarco could tell- she may not have been correct, but she was certainly sincere.

That aside, now what was he to do? Uncomfortable thoughts and memories stewed in the back of his mind, but he pushed them away. Now was the time for action, not for thought. He would deal with his trauma later.

He could, of course, just leave Coldharbour now. His magicka and strength were returning, and if he could just get out of Heart’s Grief, he could open a portal, and leave this nightmare behind forever.

But Torenn’s words echoed in his mind: _“Your dreams of godhood do not have to be shattered.”_ Fate, it seemed, had given him another opportunity. With the power of the Amulet of Kings, he could achieve his destiny. Or, at the very least, he could _defeat_ Molag Bal, if not take his place. But now, after his ordeal, he feared the Daedric Prince. More than he had ever feared anything else.

He checked and tightened the straps on his armor. He had to make a desicion… he couldn’t stand here forever. He would be caught.

Perhaps… perhaps he would just shadow the Companions for a while. Find out what they were up to, what they planned. Yes, then he would decide whether to stay or leave.

He picked up his staff and set off.


End file.
